Any Other Way
by BeehiveOneThreeZer0
Summary: It's too late. Dark fic. Names revealed at end/


Any Other Way

Dark fic.

Basic catch up: Take the events between these two directly from KH and throw them into the equivalent situations HERE in our world. I think it's pretty clear who they are, try and figure it out before it says their names.

This is me dumping some serious emotions I have been harboring, judge sparingly.

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Footsteps.

Fast. Hard. Echoing in the dank streets.

The sound of breathing, white plumes on the cold night air. A shadow raced along the wall, keeping time with it's three dimensional counterpart as the chase ended at an apartment. The door was thrown open and the figure slipped inside, heart beating against his chest, the ripping pain along his side. Deadbolts and locks slammed closed in a desperate attempt. He tried to call for help, the phones were dead.

A pound came against the door, he hid.

The door came crashing inward, knocked off its hinges. Black metal glinted in the invaders hand. He could see the black, scuffed boots from under the bed, trembling. He covered his mouth to muffle the screams and whimpers of pain that threatened to pour from his lips.

It was stupid. Pathetic.

A hand grabbed his ankle and he clawed at the ground, screaming as the attacker pulled him forward and tried to restrain him. He fought, flailing against the strong figure and breaking free. He rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the first blade his fingers could find, slicing open wounds in his haste and panic as the figure appeared in the hallway.

He tried to fight, and fell. The figure loomed over him and the barrel of a gun was pressed to his forehead. "I loved you once."

A shot rang through the night.

It hadn't always been like this.

They were happy once. It seemed like so long ago… it had only been a few short months.

There were smiles; there was a group of people with a goal. He'd back out, abandoning his friend forever. He hadn't cared at the time. He thought they would move forward.

He was wrong. While he lived in solitude and lived a normal life, hatred grew. The desire to protect turned into insanity and then rage.

He hadn't known until the day he saw him on the street. He stared at him, never moving and never saying anything, eyes of acid burning his skin. They turned and left. He knew he had been spared… but for how long?

A week. A mere week before he appeared again. As he looked at him, he realized. This was the end. In a moment of panic, he ran.

He ran and he didn't stop, a figure chasing after him in the darkness that no one sees. The alley became a labyrinth and he could feel his body giving way to the pang of exhaustion. He couldn't stop running, if he did, he would never run again. The figure was in front of him, he skidded to a halt and scrambled the other way, tripping for a moment and rushing away.

He found his apartment, fumbling with the keys with numb fingers as the figure rounded the corner. He slipped inside as he continued his slow, walking pursuit of him. He heard the locks clicks and a cruel smile slid across his face. A few strong blows, and the door fell, the deadbolts ripping a chunk from the wall.

Gone. Slow careful strides led him to the bedroom. He could hear the faintest sound of breath. With a swift and solid motion, using only one hand, he pulled him from under the bed and captured him for a few short moments before he broke free again. He followed him back through the hallway as his prey stumbled and found a knife. His fingers dripped blood from the fear that wracked his body into a trembling corpse.

"Any way but this one," he pleaded to his attacker. "Any way."

"It's too late."

The fight ensued. One easily overpowering a panic stricken male. Dilated eyes of fear looked up the black barrel of a handgun, the bullet cocked and finger posed on the trigger.

"It's not too late," a cracked voice whispered.

"It is," the gun turned on himself. "I loved you once," the attacker whispered as a clear drop fell onto the victim's floor. "Roxas."

A shot rang through the night. A shadow was spattered with blood and a body fell to the ground. The victim gasped, drops of crimson fluid sprayed across his face as he crawled over to the still warm body, a perfect circle at their temple. A hand touched his cheek, coating the numb fingers with a deep red that would never fade in his memory. It hadn't always been like this…. Why had it come to be so?

A whisper passing over pale lips echoed in the silent room.

"Axel."

~END

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Mild event explanation: In our world, people don't FUSE into one person. It's not done, so Roxas merely broke away and lived a normal life away from the 'group' (Org XIII).

When you look at it, who did Axel really save by blowing himself up?

Sora? Or Roxas?

Given the choice I choose to believe he would choose Roxas. It was merely convenient they were the same person. Again, in our world that's not possible.

In our world, you can't blow yourself up that easily. So a gun to the forehead would suffice. In order to save Roxas from himself, Axel blew his own damned brains out.

Got it?

BEEHIVEONETHREEZERO

Shortest fic I've ever written.


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